


The Earth Leaves a Mark

by Lonery



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Area 51 Raid, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Texting, There's barely any rn but you've been warned, also there will be angst, i swear this is not a crack fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonery/pseuds/Lonery
Summary: On his way back from the Area 51 raid, Momota runs into a weird kid who claims to be an alien.





	1. Chapter 1

Momota doesn't even know what he’d expected.

Maybe he’d expected absolutely nothing. That he would be the only person to show up, that he would just stare at the ‘no trespassing’ warning for a while, feel like a complete dumbass for coming, and then go back. He only came because he happened to be nearby, anyway. Well, if driving for several hours into the middle of the Nevada desert could be called 'being nearby'.

No, he had to go out of his way to get here. Whether he was driven by simple curiosity or by a foolish desire to be a part of something grand - something that could potentially change history - was an entirely different question. At the end of the day, he still came, and he was now standing in the middle of a dense crowd, right outside the gate of a certain military base.

The crowd's repetitive shouts quickly lost their spark. After a few hours, nothing about this situation seems surreal anymore. Everybody else seems to be having fun, but Momota can't help but feel… disappointed. Why? Does he _actually_ wish that the raid would break into the base? That 'they wouldn't stop all of them'? That they would find some goddamn aliens? Stupid. How unbelievably _stupid-_

A sudden push into Momota's shoulder interrupts his thoughts. He looks over to see a short, anxious-looking boy with hair dyed a bright purple. His just as bright purple eyes dart all over the place, as if searching for something. His shoulders rise and fall along with his rapid, shallow breaths

"Are… you okay?" Momota asks, even though the answer is obviously no. "Are you lost?" Momota glances over the crowd, trying to find anyone who could be the kid's friend or relative.

He just shakes his head in response, mutters something unintelligible under his breath, and pushes onwards through the crowd, quickly disappearing from Momota's sight.

A part of him wants to go after the boy. To forget all about the raid and the stupid non-existent aliens, to offer that kid the help he seemed to need so desperately. 

He sighs. It’s fine. It isn’t even that big of a deal, probably. And even if it is, it isn’t _his _deal. So it’ll be better if he stays out of it. Besides, he might not even find the kid in this crowd. Yes, it’d be pointless to even try.

With enough excuses piled together to silence the voice in his head still urging him to help, Momota tears his eyes away from the still empty space next to him.

* * *

Momota sighs, watching the already familiar ‘no trespassing’ sign run by in the window of his car. Now it's just going to be nothing but a monotonous, bare desert, for hours and hours on end. Was this whole thing worth it? In the end, nothing really happened, not that that was even surprising. He knew what he was signing up for, so he really didn’t have anyone but himself to blame. He should’ve left hours ago, nothing would’ve changed, except now he has to drive in the complete darkness of the desert night.

Suddenly, something other than rocks and the occasional cacti appears in the beam of the car's lights. Some_one_. A person in a white, long-sleeved, shapeless shirt that goes down to their knees, barefoot, slowly walking on the edge of the road, taking their time with every single step, as if they’ll fall if they aren't careful enough.

Momota stops the car. Why is that person here, in the middle of the desert, at night, just… walking? Are they also from the raid? Are they planning to just walk the entire way home? It'll take them days to get anywhere at this pace, if they even make it.

The person takes another step and stumbles. It takes them a few seconds to find their balance again. Unable to look at them struggle any longer, Momota finally steps out into the chilly outside air.

"Hey," he calls out, coming closer. "You need any help? I can drive you to Hiko if you-"

Momota realises that the person isn't listening - or, perhaps, isn't hearing him.

"Hey," he repeats, walking up to them and putting his hand on their shoulder.

The person flinches and takes a couple of frantic steps to the side as they turn around, almost losing their balance again. It's the same boy from earlier. Visibly terrified, he stares back at Momota, though there's a distance in his eyes. Like he’s almost completely out of it. His skin is so pale and devoid of life, it seems to have a bluish, almost lavender tone to it.

He takes a deep breath and moves his mouth, but all that he manages to push out of his throat is a series of quiet, disconnected whimpering noises.

"H-Hey there," Momota says, a little taken aback. "You okay? You don't look so good. Weren't looking good back at the raid, either…"

The boy says… _something_. He mutters out some sounds that are definitely words, just… unlike any other words that Momota has ever heard. A foreigner? Still, he has to know at least _some_ English, right? He has to, considering where he is…

"I can help," Momota repeats, slower and clearer than before. He points to himself. "Me. Friend."

God, he feels stupid.

The boy doesn't seem any calmer, either. He just keeps muttering in his unknown language, slowly backing away, his entire body shaking. 

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise-"

The boy missteps and tumbles to the ground. Momota rushes to him - to see if he's okay, to make sure he's not hurt, to-

Momota's hand brushes against the boy's shoulder and reflexively jolts back. The shoulder. It's cold. No, not _just_ cold, it's frigid. It's so cold it seems unreal that the boy is still alive.

Momota shakes his head. No, what was he thinking? Of course he's alive, he's right there in front of him, shaking - whether from the cold, exhaustion, or fear is unknown - but still trying to get back up, while Momota is doing nothing to help.

"It's okay," he repeats once again, putting his arms around the boy and lifting him off of the cold sand. Momota can immediately feel the boy latch onto him, tug on his shirt as if trying to pull himself even closer to the warmth.

Momota lays him into the backseat of the car and puts his jacket over him - hopefully it'll warm him up a bit. Momota looks over to say something, to try to reassure him once again, despite the language barrier, but the boy's already out like a light. Not surprising, considering he must've walked for hours.

Momota sighs, allowing himself to relax a bit. Just... what in the world happened to this kid? He looked absolutely terrified back at the raid, too. Why was he even there? Is he alone? No, that didn't make much sense. The nearest towns were hours away by car, he couldn't have walked all that way, so he must've been with _someone_. Momota would have to somehow find a way to contact them, and-

Momota rubs his eyes. He's way too tired to think about any of this. He should just get back to his hotel and ask the kid himself in the morning…

Momota carefully touches the boy's hand. A little warmer already. Another sigh of relief escapes Momota's lips.

* * *

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. Momota doesn't remember the drive to the hotel. He doesn't remember going in. He doesn't remember falling asleep. All he knows is that he now lies in his bed, staring at the screen of his barely-charged phone. 13:37. Way later than he's used to waking up.

He puts the phone away and looks over to the boy still sleeping in the same bed - Momota certainly wasn’t going to switch rooms to a double one in the middle of the night. He’d still tried to give the boy some space, despite the bed being rather narrow, but that ended up being unneeded as the boy just clung to Momota all night. Even now, he's weirdly close, clutching the collar of his shirt and using his shoulder as a pillow.

Also, apparently, Momota's eyes didn't deceive him yesterday. The boy's skin _is _a light shade of lavender. Weird.

Careful not to disturb him, Momota slides out from his grasp and gets up. He tries to wrap his head around what he’s supposed to do now - he didn’t really plan anything, and even if he had, those plans would’ve gone out the window the moment he picked up a weird kid in a desert. Maybe-

The kid jolts himself awake, frantically looking all around the room until his eyes stop on Momota.

“H-Hey there…” Momota tries his best to sound friendly.

The boy nods. "You’re… You're the guy. From the crowd."

So he _can _speak English.

"Y-Yeah. I ran into you in the desert last night. You… kinda passed out on me. Remember?"

The boy slowly shakes his head no.

He doesn’t, huh? Well, he was already on the verge of passing out when Momota saw him, so it isn’t really that surprising. For now, he should just try to make him feel a little bit safer.

"Okay, well…" Momota steps closer and holds out his hand. "I'm Momota Kaito."

The boy jerks back a little as soon as Momota moves his hand. He just stares at it, eyes wide and filled with an emotion Momota can't quite read.

"...What's your name?" he finally adds.

The kid is still silent. He remains in his spot, tense, unmoving, until Momota finally lowers his hand again and the boy sighs with relief.

Something's wrong. He’s scared. He was yesterday, too. Was he running from something? Someone? Though, that wouldn’t explain why he was at the fucking meme raid in the first place. Or is Momota overthinking this? Maybe he’s got this all wrong. Maybe he’s simply scared because he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar guy, especially if he can’t even remember last night. That’d make sense. Maybe- Maybe the kid is scared of _him_. Momota supposes it _is_ reasonable not to trust him - he did, technically, abduct a child, but he-

Holy shit, he abducted a child.

No, he _had to,_ there was no choice, the kid would've died in that desert if no one had helped him. Letting that happen would've been far, far worse. Momota did the right thing.

The right thing in this case just happened to be a crime.

Well, maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe Momota could just let the boy go on his merry way, where he'd somehow find his own parents, maybe mention that he got helped out by some stranger, and then the whole family could just forget this whole thing ever happened…

Yeah, it'd be nice if that was an option, but it's not.

A sudden realization hits him. He told the kid his name. He isn't just a stranger to him anymore. He is a stranger with a name. A name he could very well tell to other people.

What if the kid tells someone that he, Momota Kaito, dragged him into his car and then slept with him? Just how much worse could it even get?

"Are you with the government?" The boy asks out of the blue, bringing Momota's panicking train of thought to a halt.

"What the- Wh- What? No?"

"Then, are you _against_ the government?"

Momota is lost.

"What? Where is this coming from? I'm not even from here, I-"

The boy's eyes suddenly light up. "Wait, you're not? No way, did… did you go there to save me? Well, why didn't you tell me so?"

"Save you? From wh-"

"Were all those other people there aliens too?"

A pause. Seems like Momota is finally allowed to talk.

"Aliens?" he asks.

"That's what they call us, right?"

Something in Momota's brain finally clicks.

"Are you telling me that _you're_ an alien?"

The boy's smile drops. "What else would you have meant by 'not being from here'?"

"That I live in another country."

"Oh my fucking god," he slowly buries his face in his hands. "And here I hoped I might actually get somewhere." He doesn't look up for a while.

Oh god, he's delusional.

Momota takes a deep breath. He has to calm down. Again, he didn't do anything wrong. He probably saved the kid's life. If he gets to explain everything properly, there shouldn't be any problems.

Hopefully.

"What's your name?" Momota asks again.

"You wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

He rolls his eyes. "Then adapt it so my stupid human tongue _is_ able to pronounce it."

A short pause. "Ouma Kokichi."

Momota blinks. That… sounds weirdly Japanese. Huh. Well, whatever. "You got your parents’ number or something so I can explain… _all this?"_

Ouma looks up and narrows his eyes. "I'm an alien."

"Sure you are."

"I am!" The kid looks almost insulted. 

"Listen," Momota leans his back against a wall. "I'm glad you're having fun and all, but can you give it up already? The meme is over."

"...The what?" Ouma asks with a confusion in his voice that almost sounds genuine. Momota has to admit, the boy's dedication to his act is somewhat impressive.

“Listen, kid-”

“_And_ I’m not a kid,” he gets off the bed and walks up to Momota, his arms crossed. “Do you think I’d get to leave my home planet if I wasn’t an adult? Well, maybe I would, now that I’m thinking about it, but that’s not the point, the point is-”

“Are you going to cooperate or not?” Momota asks, already tired of the whole alien argument.

“Are _you?” _Ouma raises his voice. “I’m telling you as it is, _you’re _the one interrogating me while also refusing to listen to anything I say. What do you even want from me?! If you don’t believe me - fine, forget you saw me at all and go do your human things, whatever it is that you do.”

“I want to make sure you’re not gonna go die in a desert.”

Perhaps it’s something of a lie. Perhaps this isn’t the thing he’s the _most _concerned with - but a part of him can’t help but worry about the kid. Something about him just doesn’t feel right. Why was he alone at the raid? Why did he try to walk his way back from it? It didn’t seem like he had anything with him, either - not even water. And finally, why is he so dead set on keeping everything about him secret, covering it up with an alien story instead? He could’ve at least come up with something more believable… 

“If you’re not going to give me your parents’ number, I’m just gonna call the cops,” Momota says, picking his phone off the bedside table. Maybe a little intimidation will make things finally move.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Momota raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know you. I don’t care about you. It’d be a lot easier for me to just let someone else deal with you.”

For a moment, a hint of worry shows in Ouma’s eyes. “Those ‘cops’, are _they _with the government?”

What is with this kid’s obsession with the government?

“You could say so.”

“I see…” Ouma looks over to the phone in Momota’s hand. “And _that’s _what you call them with?”

“Yes. Don’t act like you don’t even know what a phone is.”

“No, I saw those,” he says. “I just couldn’t tell what they used them for, but I guess that makes sense. I see, I see,” he nods with a thoughtful look on his face.

He suddenly dashes forward, latches onto Momota’s arm, and bites it. Before Momota can process anything, the phone drops to the floor and Ouma quickly snatches it, escaping to the other side of the room. He’s panting, but his mouth is curled into a self-content smirk.

“Okay, what the _fuck_,” Momota yells, clutching his bitten wrist - not so much from the pain as from being startled. “I wasn’t fucking going to, you didn’t need to-”

He stops.

His eyes lock onto Ouma’s arms.

One of the sleeves had ridden up, revealing some of the skin. From his wrist all the way down to his elbow, it’s covered in bruises and scars. Some old, some new. Disturbingly new.

Something in Momota’s mind clicks once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
-Self-harm mention  
-Abuse mention
> 
> That's all I think but pls tell me if something else needs to be added

**New messages (7):**

**[Momokai]**(05:46) > Harumaki

**[Momokai]**(05:49) > Harumaki  
**[Momokai]**(05:49) > Fuck are you still asleep  
**[Momokai]**(05:50) > Harumaki I need your help  
**[Momokai]**(05:50) > I'm just gonna explain what happened, text me when you see this ok I'm serious

**[Momokai]**(05:55) > Ok so you know that one meme that was going around about raiding area51? And you know how I'd still be in America when it was supposed to happen? WELL  
It was yesterday  
And I may or may not have went there  
Ok I know that was really dumb of me but nothing bad happened, it was chill, don't worry.  
But uh. On the way back I ran into a kid all alone in a desert, I went out to see if he's ok and he fucking fainted as soon as I did. So naturally I took him with me, right. He's awake now, seems relatively ok.  
Says his name's Ouma Kokichi but idk, that might've been a lie. He refuses to tell me anything else. Says he's an alien. I can't tell if he just says that to derail the conversation or if he genuinely believes it. I threatened to call someone on him and he bit me, WHICH FUCKIN HURT BTW, and then took my phone. I convinced him to give it back, but… While I was doing that I, like… saw his arm and. His fuckin arm dude. It's all bruised and scarred and shit, it's fucked up. Not self harm scars, they look like someone else made them.  
I. I think he was abused? By his family? And that's why he doesn't tell me anything? Because he's afraid that I'm going to return him to them? Idk i might be wrong. I hope I am. But if I'm not, then I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now. If his family did this to him, then I don't want him to go back to them. Bro I just. I just need you to tell me what to do, I guess. I know I'm probably not gonna listen but maybe it'll help somehow.

**[Momokai]**(05:57) > Also can you ask your roommate if it's normal for someone to have violet skin, is it like an after effect of hypothermia or something ok thanks

* * *

Momota stares at the texts he just sent for a bit, until the screen slowly fades to black.

"Okay, I'm done," he sighs, getting up from the floor and freeing Ouma from his grasp. "I'm not gonna rat you out to 'the government' or whatever, so you can just calm down and stop going after my phone."

Ouma responds with a hiss as he crawls away and starts to aggressively brush off his shirt where Momota was grabbing it, his face filled with disgust.

"Hey, I… I wasn't _too_ rough, was I?" Momota reluctantly asks. There was no indication that _only_ Ouma's forearms were scarred. Momota _was_ only trying to take back the phone, but he did end up basically tackling Ouma and pinning him to the floor. He could very well have hurt him further, which was far from his intention.

"...It's fine," Ouma finally answers; his eyes gluing themselves to the floor, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Look, I'm sorry," Momota slowly sits down in front of him to get on his eye level. "Are you okay?"

Ignored.

Momota takes this time to look over the kid once more, with a little more attention to details this time. He notices the dark circles under his eyes - they look like they've been there a while; he notices the haphazard dark scratch marks on his neck; he notices just how beaten up his feet are from the hours of walking. With every new discovery, Momota's heart sinks lower.

"Ouma," he finally breaks the silence. "I want to help."

For a split second, the boy glances up at him, but quickly retreats back to the comfort zone of staring at the floor.

"I know that I shouldn't have threatened you," Momota continues. "And I'm sorry for that. I…" His eyes linger on Ouma's arms, now covered by the long sleeves. The image of his injuries still won't leave Momota's mind. "I didn't know."

Still no reaction.

"But I can't help you if you refuse to tell me anything. I'm sure it's hard for you to talk about this, and I know that you have no reason to trust me, but… I promise I'm not gonna do anything to harm you."

Ouma's complete lack of a response slowly starts to get on Momota's nerves. "Hey, Ouma," he leans forward and reaches to touch the boy's hand.

As soon as he starts moving, Ouma snaps out of his daze and scoots further away, until his back meets with the side of the bed. He stares at Momota, his eyes filled to the brim with pure unadulterated fear.

"Get… the fuck away from me…" he manages to force out in between his shallow breaths.

Momota's mind goes blank. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to help. All his instincts are screaming at him to comfort the panicking person in front of him, to hug him, to tell him that everything will be okay - but that would only make matters worse, wouldn't it?

"Okay," Momota stands up and takes a step back. "I will."

He continues to back away until Ouma starts looking a little calmer again.

"...Thanks," the boy mutters, already back to eyeing the floor.

A small gesture, but it still sparks a bit of hope in Momota.

That panic - it seemed more like a reflex than anything else. Ouma isn't afraid of Momota himself, he's afraid of him approaching without warning. Maybe there's still a way to get Ouma to open up.

Momota just wishes he knew what the way was.

* * *

The phone in Momota's pocket gives out two short buzzes.

**[Harumaki]**(15:04) > 'if it's normal for someone to have violet skin'  
**[Harumaki]**(15:04) > ???

_That's_ what she's most concerned with?

Momota quickly sends another text.

(15:04) >> This bitch purple

**[Harumaki]**(15:05) > That doesn't explain anything

Momota looks up from the screen, over at the bitch in question. "Hey, Ouma," he says, walking a little closer. "Give me your hand."

The already familiar shade of fear washes over the boy's face again.

"I'm not gonna do anything with it, I won't even touch it, just… hold it out a little."

Still looking rather freaked out, Ouma does as he's told. His hand's shaking. Momota holds out his own for comparison. God, Ouma's skin looks even weirder side by side like that.

Momota snaps a pic.

(15:06) >> img002543.jpg  
(15:06) >> Bitch

Harukawa takes a while to respond.

**[Harumaki]**(15:09) > That's not just weird lighting?

(15:09) >> It's not

**[Harumaki]**(15:09) > And it's not foundation or something? There were probably cosplayers at the raid, right? He could be one of them

(15:09) >> Also no

**[Harumaki]**(15:10) > Roommate's still asleep so I can't ask her, but that does look weird.  
**[Harumaki]**(15:10) > He says he's an alien, right?

(15:10) >> Harumaki if you go there I will fly back to Japan this instant and throw you into the sea

**[Harumaki]**(15:11) > I mean  
**[Harumaki]**(15:11) > You can't deny that it would explain it.

(15:11) >> Harumaki I wasn't supposed to be the sensible one in this conversation

**[Harumaki]**(15:12) > Ok ok sorry you're right  
**[Harumaki]**(15:12) > I'll ask about the purple skin thing after she wakes up.  
**[Harumaki]**(15:13) > You said you think his family abused him?

(15:13) >> Yeah  
(15:13) >> I mean  
(15:13) >> Like I said, he doesn't tell me anything.  
(15:14) >> I just can't imagine where else these scars could've come from.  
(15:14) >> Also he freaks out whenever I come anywhere close to him

**[Harumaki]**(15:15) > How old is he? If he's over 16 he might be able to move out. Depends on where he lives though.

(15:15) >> Doesn't look over 16

**[Harumaki]**(15:15) > Ask.

Momota sighs. Even without asking, he has a pretty good idea of how this conversation is going to go.

"Ouma?"

"Yeah?" he perks up a little.

"How old are you?"

"Be more specific."

"How... How old are you? I don't know how I could be any more or less specific."

"Ohhh, I don't know…" A smirk finds its way back onto Ouma's face. "Do you mean all of the time I've been alive, converted to Earth years? Do you mean how old I am in _my_ planet's years? Do you mean how my alien age would correspond to a human age? Because I could be anywhere between 5 and 50 depending on that alone. Don't get me _started_ on how space travel time would affect the result."

There it is.

"No, really," Ouma adds. "_Don't_ get me started on space travel. Because I have no idea how it works."

Momota has been awake for a little less than two hours and he is already drained.

"The third option, _I guess,_" he rubs the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"You just had to pick the hardest one, huh?" Ouma presses his lips together. "How old are _you?_"

"Eighteen."

"Okay," Ouma grins. "Let's make me _nine_teen, then."

Momota takes a slow, deep breath and directs his eyes back onto the screen.

(15:20) >> Harumaki I can't deal with this shit

**[Harumaki]**(15:21) > What?

(15:21) >> He's back onto his alien bullshit  
(15:21) >> Says he's 19  
(15:21) >> Only after I told him I was 18  
(15:21) >> Like he obviously just made that up on the spot  
(15:21) >> Getting anything out of him is a fucking nightmare  
(15:22) >> I swear I'm trying but he makes helping him very fucking difficult

**[Harumaki]**(15:22) > Calm down.

(15:22) >> Im fuckin calm

**[Harumaki]**(15:23) > If you lash out on him I'm going to stab a bitch and that bitch is going to be you.

Only now Momota notices how tense his entire body is.

**[Harumaki]**(15:25) > Listen. I'm gonna go get ready for the day and then get back to you. BE PATIENT WITH HIM, got it? No matter how annoying he is. He's probably terrified enough as it is, the last thing he needs right now is you yelling at him.

'Get ready for the day', huh? Momota should probably go do that, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**[Harumaki]**(15:40) > I'm back. You're lucky I don't have work today.  
**[Harumaki]**(15:40) > Also the roommate woke up, says she's never seen anything like that. Make of that what you will.  
**[Harumaki]**(15:42) > Momota  
**[Harumaki]**(15:43) > Everything ok there?

(15:43) >> He's trying to hug the kettle

**[Harumaki]**(15:43) > what

Ouma pushes himself forward and Momota reflexively lets go of the collar of his shirt, wary of the bites that may follow.

"Can you stop doing that?" Ouma whines. "What is with you humans and just… grabbing people?"

"Who the fuck hugs a boiling kettle?!"

"But it's warm!" Ouma protests.

Something in his tone of voice makes Momota hesitate.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

"Your whole planet is what's fucking cold…"

A few pieces finally come together. How absolutely freezing Ouma felt when they met. How he’d spent the whole night clinging to Momota - a complete stranger he seemed to be scared of. How he's now eyeing the old electric travel kettle on the bedside table, entranced by the steam and the bubbling water.

They're in the middle of the desert. In the middle of the day. The room doesn't even have any air conditioning. How can he be cold? Maybe it's just Momota not being used to the climate, but he can barely stand the heat.

Now that Momota's thinking about it, Ouma’s been quietly shivering almost constantly, ever since he woke up.

He's not sick, is he?

No, no, his body would've felt hot if that were the case. Maybe… Maybe Ouma just gets cold easily. Maybe that's all there is to it. That's how Momota chooses to rationalize it, at least.

Still, the lingering concern refuses to leave his mind.

"Give me a minute," Momota says, in the softest voice he can muster. He carefully pulls Ouma by his sleeve away from the table and sits him down on the bed. After a moment of consideration, he throws the blanket over the boy's shoulders, for good measure.

Ouma doesn't resist any of it, to Momota's surprise.

"Were you cold all this time?" he asks, walking back to the kettle. A cup and some scattered tea bags are still beside it - left there since the previous morning.

"It was worse yesterday," Ouma mutters.

"Well, duh, it was night."

"...Why are you doing this?" Ouma asks. He looks genuinely confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I'm an alien. This isn't how humans treat aliens."

"Maybe you just haven't met a decent human yet. Here." Momota hands him a steaming cup of tea. That has to warm him up, right?

Ouma reluctantly accepts and, after a moment of hesitation, takes a sip.

His eyes light up.

"Better?" Momota asks with a gentle smile.

Ouma responds with a barely noticeable nod as he takes another overly-careful, yet somehow still clumsy sip.

Fuck, he's cute.

With that blanket over him, with a newfound lively spark in his eyes, with a subtle, soft smile on his lips, Momota can't even begin to fathom how anyone could be cruel enough to do…_ all that_ to him.

Unforgivable.

The usual short, quiet buzz of the phone makes Momota tear his eyes away from the other boy.

**[Harumaki]**(15:54) > You two alright there?

Right, he still hasn’t replied to her.

(15:54) >> Yeah  
(15:54) >> Harumaki  
(15:55) >> Can I be weird for a bit?

**[Harumaki]**(15:56) > You always are but go on

(15:56) >> No I  
(15:56) >> I mean  
(15:56) >> Fuck  
(15:57) >> I want to help him  
(15:57) >> No, that's not it  
(15:58) >> I want to save him?  
(15:58) >> I guess??  
(16:02) >> Like… I don't want to let anyone else handle this. If it's gotten this bad without anyone getting involved then how can I be sure anyone's gonna help him at all? I feel like I'm the only one who can protect him?  
(16:02) >> How stupid is it gonna be if I help him run away?  
(16:03) >> I already abducted him I might as well go all out  
(16:03) >> I haven't even asked him if he wants me to help him. I get a feeling that he doesn't.  
(16:04) >> I'm just scared of hearing him actually say that.  
(16:04) >> I don't know why I even care so much, I met him less than a day ago.  
(16:05) >> It's just… Nobody deserves to go through all that, you know? I want him to be okay. And safe. And happy. And I want to be the one who gets him there.  
(16:06) >> Am I being weird? Is that creepy? Am I being possessive?

**[Harumaki]**(16:06) > Yeah pretty much

(16:06) >> Fuck

**[Harumaki]**(16:07) > If he accepts your help, I say go for it

(16:09) >> You were supposed to talk me out of it

**[Harumaki]**(16:10) > I know  
**[Harumaki]**(16:10) > But you're gonna do all that no matter what I say, right?  
**[Harumaki]**(16:11) > I might as well support you right off the bat, even if it doesn't mean much

(16:11) >> It does  
(16:11) >> Thanks, Harumaki

**[Harumaki]**(16:12) > <3

"Momota… was it?" Ouma finally speaks up. That… is the first time he called him by name. A weird warmth fills Momota's chest. Is this a sign that he's finally being somewhat trusted? Momota hopes that it is.

"Yeah?"

"Don't humans, you know… eat?"

Oh. Right. Momota forgot about that somehow. Ouma must be starving. Frankly, Momota was too.

"Ah, yeah, that-" Momota gets up, walks over to his bag lying haphazardly on the floor, and starts rummaging through it. To his disappointment, it's practically empty, and with no food left to speak of.

"Can you wait for a bit? I mean, you don't really have a choice, because I got nothing here. I'm gonna go find us something, hopefully there's like a store nearby."

Ouma narrows his eyes a little, as if looking for some kind of ulterior motive in Momota's words. "...Sure," he finally concludes.

Momota was trustworthy enough in Ouma's eyes to go out on his own. The warmth fills him once again.

* * *

The first thing Momota notices when he steps outside are the missing person posters. They're everywhere. On a lamppost across the street, all over the surrounding buildings, on a wall right next to Momota's door. Exactly the same printout, with a black and white picture of an all-too-familiar face.

How dare they.

First they beat Ouma up, treat him like garbage, scare him to the point where he panics when anyone tries to approach him, and then they do _this_ immediately when he finally gets away?

The posters weren't up yesterday. He wasn't even gone for a full day. Don't a few days have to pass before a search is started? Maybe it's done differently in small towns…

Momota tears down the printout next to his door in resentment and starts walking. God, he feels gross. If they hated Ouma that much, they could at least let him get away from them. Would've been better for both parties involved. Were they only trying to get him back because that's what was expected of them? Were they getting some sick pleasure from hurting him? If it's the latter one, then-

Momota walks around a corner of the hotel and almost bumps into a person passing by. No, not almost - he knocks a half-open bag out of their hands.

"Shit, sorry," he instantly apologises. "I wasn't looking where I was going-"

"No, no, it's _my_ fault," the person apologises back as they crouch to pick up their dropped belongings. "I should've been more careful," they conclude, getting back up and giving Momota a polite, though clearly fake smile.

It's a tall, pale, frail-looking guy. Although he's smiling, his greyish-green eyes don't display any emotion at all. Something about that rubs Momota the wrong way. The unnaturally white hair that’s so fuzzy it almost seems to be floating only adds to the eerie feeling.

"You're new," he suddenly says. "Did you come here for the raid?"

"...Most people here did, right?"

"True," the guy softly chuckles. "So did I. I'm in 104," he pulls a room key out of his pocket, almost identical to Momota's.

"Ah. We're neighbours, then. I'm in 105."

"Really? What luck is it for us to bump into each other like that, huh…"

"Yeah…"

There's a moment of awkward silence.

"Say," the person starts talking again. "You just got here yesterday, right?"

"The night before, but yeah, pretty much."

"W-Well," he stutters a little. "I've been here for a week, I can show you around. If… If you want t-to, that is…"

That… _would_ be a huge help. When Momota arrived, it took him almost an hour to find the hotel. That was at night, but still. He can't see why the other would offer to show him around just because they were neighbours, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"Sure?"

The guy's face lights up with pure joy. "Really?! Thank you!" he beams. "I promise I'll make myself useful!"

Momota hopes he won't regret accepting this offer.

* * *

Ouma takes his time to calm down a little. He's gone. The human's gone. And he barely did anything to harm him after all. Good… good.

A part of Ouma is still panicking over his decision to let Momota go somewhere. There was no guarantee that he wouldn't tell anyone. That he wouldn't let the government know. That he wouldn't make him… go back there.

Ouma should've just kept his mouth shut. Why had he let him know that he was an alien? He shouldn't have let Momota get him in the first place. If only he had just toughed it out in the desert, he wouldn't be in this mess… So what if it was cold, so what if he felt like he was dying? He should've been used to both of these things by now…

His hand reaches up to his hair, gathers a strand and pulls at it, perhaps a little too harshly. That one's probably gonna be permanently bent now, too. The pain helps clear his head a little, though.

It's pointless to worry about it now. It'd only stress him out even more. Even then, it's not like he can leave. He'd get caught in no time. He's lucky he didn't die the previous night, anyway… All he can do is just wait and hope that Momota wasn't lying about wanting to help. And that his definition of 'help' was in line with Ouma's.

Suddenly, something catches Ouma's eye. A small, dark rectangle lying on the floor by Momota's bag. The 'phone' or whatever. He must've forgotten it when he was leaving.

Ouma gets off the bed and picks it up. Hopefully, watching Momota for a few hours was enough to figure out how this thing works.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay  
Life was being Not Very Good

Ouma really wishes he had managed to learn more English. He'd say he has a pretty good grasp on the speaking part, but that just comes naturally to him. He hasn’t had nearly as much practice with reading, though.

He glances over the long block of text on the screen for what has to be the fifth time. He just doesn't get it. The letters refuse to string themselves together into anything that makes sense to him.

It's a conversation. Ouma can tell that much. He assumes one of the people is Momota. That would make sense, right? If he was staring at this so often, he had to be talking to someone. Still, that doesn't get Ouma far. The fact that there's clearly some other, completely different language, seemingly mixed in at random, doesn't help. He sighs and scrolls back up to start reading again. It's pointless to fret over things that he has no way to understand. He should just focus on what little he _does_ understand, and see where it gets him.

He should've tried to figure things out on his own, instead of relying on someone else to tell him everything. Clearly, that just wasn't enough.

He shakes his head. No. Focus. He managed to get out. This is already farther than he expected to ever get. Now he just has to not get caught again. He tries to read the texts again. One thing comes up so often that it's obvious even to him. Momota wants to help.

Ouma feels a shiver run up his spine. Maybe it's just because of how cold the air is. He'd probably feel better if he opened the curtains to let the sun in, but he's not willing to risk being seen…

No, it's not just the cold. It's the 'help' thing. Momota mentioned it to Ouma himself, too… So maybe he wasn't lying, at least… This feels weird. Wrong. Confusing. Ouma isn't sure if he even wants to be helped. He knows he isn't going to get anywhere on his own, but…

He doesn't know where that 'anywhere' would be.

He just feels so lost. He doesn't know what to do. Where to go. Who to trust. He escaped on an impulse. He didn't plan to actually succeed. He just knows that he doesn't want to go back. He just wants to _live._

...Does he?

Is there a point in living if he has to spend the rest of his life miserable, mutilated, constantly afraid of being caught? Maybe it'd be easier to…

Ouma shakes his head. No, no, that thought scares him just as much. But then, what else is there? He has to come up with some sort of plan, with at least a general idea of what he's going to do next - and fast - but he just _can't._ He can't, he can't, he can't...

Almost subconsciously, his hand reaches up again and forcefully twists another strand of hair. A quiet but painful hiss escapes Ouma's mouth.

His head doesn't feel any clearer this time.

* * *

"I'm back," Momota says, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. "Sorry it took so long. Met our neighbour - weird guy, - he offered to show me around, so I thought I'd be back in no time, but I'd probably have been better off if I’d just wandered around on my own." He laughs, but it sounds forced. Ouma doesn't need to be an expert on humans to understand that.

"It's fine," he responds, ignoring what the other just said and instead eyeing the weird, white, crinkly bag in Momota's hand.

"Got us something to eat," he explains. "If you can call it that. But all we have is a kettle, so we'll have to just deal with it."

'Kettle'. That's the warm thing.

"Is this gonna be warm too?" Ouma asks, perking up a bit.

"Are you okay?" Momota gives him a look. "How are you still cold?"

It's the shadow. It's definitely the shadow, Ouma became sure of that after fighting the urge to open the curtains for the last few hours. Ouma decides not to tell Momota that. He just shrugs.

Momota flicks the kettle’s switch and sits down on the bed next to Ouma. "Hey, so… You're running from someone, right?"

For some reason, that question catches him off guard. He nods after a short pause. "Y… Yeah…"

"I can help. How far away from here do you need to get?"

The other side of the galaxy would be nice.

Ouma stays silent.

"Listen, I…" Momota stammers. "I'm not gonna pry into who you're running from, or why, or who you even are - I get that you don't want me to. Just tell me where to take you, and I'll do my best to do just that."

That's the thing. Ouma _doesn't know_ where to go.

The kettle's switch flicks itself back, indicating that it's done doing its thing. Momota holds his gaze on Ouma for a second longer, and with a quiet sigh, finally stands up. For a while, Ouma is left with his thoughts, with nothing but the sound of Momota rummaging through the bags breaking the silence.

There's… no reason to refuse, right? Ouma doesn't want to. He doesn't necessarily want to accept either, but what other choice does he have, really? He doesn't want to go back. He just has to blindly trust this random human with unintelligible motives that seemed to change on a whim. He might betray him. He might simply fail. They _would_ be going against some scary fucking people. Would Momota be killed if they got caught? Put in the same place that Ouma was? He can't imagine that they'd let Momota get off scot-free just because he's human.

Ouma… doesn't want anyone to suffer because of him…

"Here," Momota hands him a flimsy-looking cup filled with long, yellowish, ribbonlike strips and steaming water.

_Warmth._

"And also, here," Momota adds, giving Ouma a pair of conjoined, rough-feeling sticks. "Ah, sorry, do you know how to use those? I can get you a fork, I should have some lying around…"

Ah. He must've noticed Ouma's confused look. "No, it's fine," he says, giving the human his best attempt at a smile. He'll figure it out. It's in his nature, after all. Besides, he has just as little of an idea of what a 'fork' is, so it wouldn't make a difference.

"You ever had ramen?" Momota asks, taking his own pair of sticks and breaking them apart.

"We had something similar," Ouma responds as he mimics Momota's actions. "It was more bluish, though."

"Bluish?" Momota repeats, clearly confused. Ouma takes note of how he's holding the sticks with one hand and copies that too.

"M-hm," he nods, absentmindedly poking the food with the sticks, trying to get used to how they feel in his hand. "These are a little less firm, too." A wave of nostalgia washes over him. He hasn't had those in so long… Even before he’d left his home, it'd been a while. One of his friends used to always make them. He wonders why she stopped.

God, he misses her. No, not just her, all of them. They don't even know what he's going through. They have no idea.

Before he gets any more emotional, he picks up a cluster of strips and puts it in his mouth.

It's… good.

He doesn't remember how long it's been since he didn't have to force himself to eat.

This feels so calm. So peaceful. He doesn't feel threatened. This… is how it's supposed to be. This is how it should've been. This is how people should be treating each other. Alien or not, on his home planet or not, people shouldn't be constantly afraid just because they exist.

It's… sad that Ouma managed to forget this so soon.

They finish their food in silence. As the human is about to get up to put the cups away, Ouma starts speaking without really thinking.

"Momota?" he blurts out.

"Yeah?"

"I don't… know where I am."

"Ah, that? We're close to Area 51, I mean, not _that_ close, but-"

"No, I don't mean like that, I… I mean about that thing. About asking you to take me somewhere. I don't know where. I've never been _anywhere."_

For a second, Momota looks concerned. He doesn't say anything for a while, he just lowers his eyes and stares into his cup with a thoughtful expression.

"I… I know that I just said that I wouldn't pry into anything, but I do need to ask you. Who would definitely notice that you disappeared?"

The government, duh. But it's pointless to tell Momota that - who knows what conclusion he's going to draw from that. He still doesn't seem to understand that Ouma isn't lying about being an alien. He has to tell him that in some fucked up, roundabout way so he'd actually get the point.

"There shouldn't be any easily accessible records of me, if that's what you're asking." Ouma tries to choose his words really carefully.

"What do you mean, 'easily accessible'?"

"My existence is a secret from the general public. Only a handful of people know about me. Even less actually saw me in person. To my knowledge, at least."

Momota slowly nods. Ouma can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"I see…" he finally says. "That might make our situation somewhat easier."

"It might?"

"Yeah. If nobody knows who you are, we might be okay just getting to a far enough state, and that's no problem. Not even going to take all that long."

Is that… an inkling of sadness in his voice? Maybe Ouma just imagined it. Still, something tells him that this isn't going to be that simple. There might not be a lot of people who know about Ouma's existence, but they're powerful people. At least… Ouma thinks they are. And even if they do manage to get away, Ouma still has no idea what he's supposed to do after that. He doesn't want to stay here, trapped forever on a planet he's grown to hate, in a _body_ he's grown to hate, that looks too much like the horrible creatures he's been forced to face day after day.

Momota carefully puts his hand on top of Ouma's, and the latter can't stop a quiet, yet still perfectly audible gasp from escaping his lips.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" Momota smiles. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."

His… His hand.

Why, even after all this time that Ouma spent surrounded by humans, has he never noticed that they aren't cold-blooded?

He moves on a pure impulse. He doesn't think. It's not the issue of distrust, or fear, or revulsion, not anymore. Now it's only about finally fulfilling one of his basic survival needs.

He moves closer, rests his head onto Momota's chest and lets his body just relax against the human's, giving in to the warmth and comfort. After a few moments of hesitation, Momota puts his arms around Ouma, surrounding him with even more warmth.

It finally hits him.

He's safe.

He's safe, he's safe, he's _finally_ fucking safe, he's not starving, not freezing, not terrified of whatever horrors might happen next, without any warning besides the panic-inducing echo of approaching footsteps.

It's all behind him now.

He can't believe it. It doesn't seem real. It feels like any second now he'll wake up, back in that place, all alone, with even the cell across the hall, the one that never failed to give him a spark of hope, now empty.

He doesn't want that.

There isn't anything in this world that scares him more than that.

He hears Momota softly whisper something to him. He doesn't quite make out what - he's already well on his way to a blissful unconsciousness, - but it sounds comforting. He doesn't want to fall asleep. Not if there's _any _chance, no matter how small, that he'll wake up _back there._

His body, still completely exhausted even after an uneventful day, however, has other plans.

* * *

**[Harumaki]**(18:39) > Momota. I'm way too invested in this at this point for you to not give me updates.

Weird. The message is already marked as read.

(19:57) >> Yeah, sorry  
(19:57) >> We're ok  
(20:00) >> I think he trusts me now


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey guess who disappeared for who fuckin knows how long because a whole lot of real life happened

**[Harumaki]**(14:47) > Morning  
**[Harumaki]**(14:47) > Well, day for you  
**[Harumaki]**(14:48) > How are you two doing?

(15:32) >> Heyy  
(15:32) >> We're good  
(15:32) >> We're driving  
(15:33) >> Stopped to get gas

Well, not exactly. Momota stopped the car quite a bit away from the gas station, pretty much just so he could reply to Harukawa without bothering anyone.

Ouma rests his chin on Momota's shoulder, staring down at the phone's screen. He looks… bothered.

"Momota? What does this say?"

Ah, right. Harukawa had started the conversation in Japanese, and Momota continued it as such. Ouma… probably couldn't read that.

"Just letting a friend know what we're doing. She's foreign."

The phone buzzes.

**[Harumaki]**(15:36) > I see. Going somewhere specific?

Ouma glances back to the screen only to look away again with a frustrated sigh.

(15:36) >> Not really, just moving somewhere farther away from the town  
(15:36) >> There were fuckin missing person posters of him there, did I tell you that?  
(15:36) >> Also Harumaki, speak english, Ouma can't understand you otherwise

**[Harumaki]**(15:37) > Ah, he's reading too? Hey there, alien boy  
**[Harumaki]**(15:38) > About the posters: no you didn't.

"Posters?" Ouma gives Momota a confused look.

"Yeah. Just fucking plastered all over the place. Like… an obnoxious amount, you know?" he mutters as he texts the very same thing to Harukawa. It takes him a moment to realise that perhaps Ouma doesn't know what a missing person poster is. "Someone's looking for you," he explains. "Really hard. Ah, actually-"

Momota reaches into his pocket and takes out a crumpled piece of paper. Must've forgotten to throw away the darn thing.

"Here," he unravels the poster and hands it to Ouma. "There's a phone number at the bottom, do you know who that is?"

"I don't," Ouma answers as he starts anxiously fidgeting with his hair. "But like I said, there's not a lot of people who would know that I escaped, y'know?"

The fact that of all words, he used 'escaped' makes Momota's heart sink. It sinks even lower as he notices Ouma's visible shivering. The poor thing must be fucking terrified.

"You cold?" Momota asks.

"Huh?"

"I'm asking if you're cold. C'mere." Momota scoots over in his car seat to make some space for Ouma. "I'll keep you warm if you are."

There's only a brief moment of hesitation. Whether out of fear or because of a genuine chill, the boy climbs over to the front seat and curls up next to Momota. The latter puts his arm around him in an attempt to comfort him.

**[Harumaki]**(15:45) > Hey uh  
**[Harumaki]**(15:46) > Is there any way I could help you guys? I don't want to just sit here uselessly.

(15:46) >> Not really? At least I can't think of anything.

"Ouma, do you have any ideas?" Momota asks.

"Why would I?" his voice sounds frustrated. "I don't know _anything._ I don't know who this friend of yours is, I don't know where she is, I don't know how this world works, I don't know _what the fuck you're talking about_ half the time, I…" he takes a deep breath trying to pull himself together. "Sorry, I… It's just…"

Shit. Momota really should pay closer attention to him. He's clueless. He's just escaped from people who completely shut him off from the outside world, who didn't teach him anything, instead filling his head with delusions. Ouma's clearly not dumb. Far from it - he seems to pick up on everything with shocking ease. Perhaps that ease, combined with his ability to act like he understands when he really doesn't, is what makes Momota forget just how lost the boy truly is.

"It's okay," he says, pulling Ouma closer. "Sorry I… assumed things. I'll try to explain everything to you more from now on, okay?" He tries to sound as soft and gentle as he can.

Ouma nods. Good… Almost instinctively, Momota's hand reaches up to Ouma's head, to pat him, to comfort him…

As soon as his hand touches the purplish hair, a surprised, involuntary yelp escapes Ouma's lips and he pushes himself away to the passenger seat, staring back with shocked eyes.

"Wh-What?" Momota asks, genuinely confused.

"That hurt," Ouma responds.

"I- Wh- _How?"_

Ouma lowers his eyes. "Y-you know…" he mutters.

"No, I _don't_ know, I touched your _hair,_ how can touching someone's hair hurt-"

Momota stops himself, realizing that he'd lashed out. Shit. Shit, he was supposed to stay calm, he was supposed to help-

"Do humans… not get hurt when touching… 'hair'?" Ouma asks, as if that was somehow a surprise to him.

Okay. Okay, maybe- maybe he's just _that_ unused to people touching him. Or maybe he's just so used to other people hurting him that he just assumes that any touch will be painful. There's no way he actually felt anything. There's no way his hair is actually that sensitive - he's been messing with it all day. He must've just gotten startled, is all…

"No," Momota says. "Not normally."

"I see…" Ouma mutters, almost whispers to himself.

"Sorry. I'm not gonna touch it again, okay? I didn't know."

Fuck, now Momota's reinforcing the kid's delusions about being an alien. That's probably not good…

Ouma nods, pulling his legs up to his chest, and silently stares off into a nondescript corner of the car.

This conversation clearly hit a roadblock.

Finally filling that gas tank was probably a good idea right about now.

* * *

Momota puts a 50 dollar bill on the counter, not even earning a quick glance from the cashier.

A polite cough to catch their attention doesn’t do a thing either.

Whatever. Momota doesn’t care enough about a couple of dollars of change to deal with this shit. He just turns around and beelines for the door. He reaches out to push at the handle when the door suddenly opens and he almost bumps into whoever was walking in.

“Ah, sorry-” Momota reflexively apologises as he steps away to let the person through. Only then does he finally look at who the person actually is. Komaeda. The next-door neighbor from back at the hotel.

“Oh, Momota-kun?” Komaeda steps back, seemingly caught just as off-guard as Momota. “Didn’t expect to run into you here. Did I scare you?” he smiles apologetically.

“No, you’re fine…”

If Momota was to be honest, he would prefer not seeing Komaeda again. He’s a nice guy, (probably) and he did help him quite a bit, but… Maybe it’s just that Momota was suspicious of _everyone _in that town, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of unease whenever Komaeda was nearby.

Momota says the first thing that comes to mind to break the silence that was becoming somewhat awkward. “You’re leaving too, huh?”

Of course he fucking is. Komaeda came for the raid, and now it was over. What was he going to do, stay in that town in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country for no reason?

“Yes, I am. A shame I didn’t get a chance to see the raid myself,” Komaeda lowers his head in regret. “So many brave people storming the well-guarded base to learn what exactly happens there… That must have been quite a sight… Perhaps… Even I could have been of use to those pillars of hope…” he peers at his palm, raised before his face. Komaeda then turns back at Momota, smiling again. “I’m sorry, I must have annoyed you.”

“We didn’t ‘storm’ anything,” he sighs, somewhat irritated. Not at Komaeda - no, he didn’t say anything wrong. It's just that his words made all of Momota’s own regrets resurface. With Ouma suddenly taking over all of his plans, for a short while, he had forgotten what a giant waste of time the raid itself was.

He wanted to see some fucking aliens, goddammit.

Komaeda lowers his head again, sighing deeply. “Oh… I apologise for my assumptions. I just… thought it had happened. Or, hoped, I guess. If only I...” Komaeda pauses for a second. “...No, a lowly human like me wouldn’t do anything, even if I managed to get there,” he nodded to himself.

“Don’t say that…” Momota can’t stop a slight wince from manifesting itself. “Nobody would’ve done anything no matter how many people showed up. ‘They can’t stop all of us’, we were just saying those things. No one actually meant it.” He doesn’t know if he’s reassuring Komaeda or himself at this point. “It wasn’t all that fun, either. Just people standing around. Just… underwhelming, you know? So don’t feel bad for missing it.”

“If you… say so?”, Komaeda turns his face back to Momota. “Guess… Their hopes weren’t… high enough for that to happen…” he slightly tilts his head. “You… didn’t regret coming here, did you?”

Momota’s reply is instant.

“No.”

Who the fuck even cares about the raid? Sure, he didn’t get what he wanted, but he’s now in the middle of something much more important. Saving Ouma. Helping another human being escape from a terrible, horrifying fate, whatever it actually is. He has to protect him, no matter what…

He won’t let anything else in this fucked-up world scar Ouma any further.

“Well, nice seeing you,” Momota’s goodbye is short and abrupt. He doesn’t elaborate on his previous answer, he doesn’t wish Komaeda safe travels or whatever the fuck else, he doesn’t have time for any of that. Not when whoever is searching for Ouma might be right behind them.

Unless, of course, Komaeda is somehow connected to them. Then they’re even more screwed.

Fuck, Momota just has to get back to the car, right now. He once again heads for the door.

“Good luck, Momota-kun,” Komaeda says as Momota turns away. “Thank you for... talking to someone like me.”

Momota does his best to ignore how heavy those self-deprecating words feel on his chest.

* * *

Momota sighs as he gets the car moving again. Something about Komaeda - he can't quite put a finger on what, exactly, - unsettles him to no end. He just… has a bad feeling about him.

A hunch.

"Everything fine?" Ouma asks. He must've noticed Momota's unease.

"Yeah, just…" he debates whether he should tell Ouma anything. It’s probably nothing important. Sure, Komaeda says weird things, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s somehow connected to Ouma’s abusers. If Momota mentions anything, it'll just be something to stress the boy out even more. Momota really doesn't want that.

But what if it _is _something important? Something crucial. Something that could put their little escape mission to an end.

"Ran into our hotel neighbor again."

"...Huh."

"That's… just a coincidence, right?" Momota asks, without really expecting to get an answer. "That we ran into each other like that."

"What does he look like?" Ouma's voice is stern. Emotionless. Straight to the point.

"Pale. Thin. White hair. Gray eyes. About my age. Slightly shorter than me. The name's Komaeda."

"Hm," Ouma goes back to messing with his hair again. "Don't know him. For all that's worth…"

Both of them stay quiet for a while, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the rustle of sand under the tires to fill the silence.

Ouma sighs, leaning against the car door and pulling his knees up to his chest. "If that Komaeda guy _is_ with the… with… you know… then do you think he's caught onto us?"

"Don't know," Momota replies. "Doesn't seem like it, but I'm not sure about anything, really…"

He notices something in the rear view mirror. A car, in the same lane, rapidly approaching.

"Now that I'm thinking about it…" Ouma continues. "If they were to send someone to try to find me, wouldn't they send someone I _didn't_ know?"

That car's awfully close now, it should probably slow down… Or change lanes, at the very least… They'll just collide into each other at this point…

"That'd make sense, right? If they got someone who could get close without me getting too suspicious? Like… someone like you, you know?"

Oh shit, it's not slowing down.

"You're not _actually_ with them, right?"

Momota hastily turns the steering wheel to the side, skids to a halt into the next lane, and the other car zooms past them, without dropping its speed even a little.

"Fuckin' dumbass…" Momota mutters. "Watch where you're fucking going…"

His frustrated whispering is interrupted by a sound that makes his heart drop. A quiet, suppressed whimper from the back seat.

"Ouma?!" Momota rushes out of his seat and climbs over to the back to see the boy shaking in a fetal position, clutching his left leg. There's… a bloodstain on his shirt, over his thigh.

_Shit._

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, what the fuck happened and how-_

"Ouma, let me see," Momota unceremoniously forces Ouma's hands off of his leg and lifts the shirt.

A scar.

There used to be a scar on his thigh. And now it's reopened.

Long, precise, clearly surgical in nature, and definitely deep enough to see the bone if Momota was to look inside of it. And oh god, it's bleeding.

Except… it's not blood. It doesn't ooze. It doesn't come in pulses. It just trickles down Ouma's leg in a constant stream. But most of all, the color. Bright, neon, eyestraining. Pink.

Not human.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back
> 
> **TW:**  
Panic attack

_"Ouma!"_

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts_, it hurts- _It had been hurting enough as it was, but Ouma had gotten used to it after this long. Now the pain was back in full force, his entire thigh scorching just as much as it was back then, when the cut was first made.

_It hurts. _He wants to scream, but the sound gets stuck in his throat, too terrified to bring attention to himself. All his instincts allow him to do is curl up tighter, hide himself, get as small as he can-

_He can't_. The realization shakes him to the very core. _He's stuck like this, forever._ Ouma knew this, he knew, _he knew_, but being there, in pain, with a primal urge to escape and hide in some tiny corner, where no one could ever find him, while not being able to only makes him panic more. It's not just his thigh - it's his entire body, it hurts from the ugly scars, deep and wide cuts carved into him and then slapped back together. They won't heal. It's been so long, and they still won't heal. They're there, forever, forcing him to stay the way he is now. He'll die if he tries to change. _He'll die. _The scars will reopen and he'll bleed out and die, in the same agony he’s in now, except _worse_. _He'll die, he's stuck forever, he can't, he can't, it hurts, he can't-_

He chokes on his panicked breaths.

"Ouma," the human pushes down on his chest, forcing him to lie on his back, and tugs on his leg to straighten it.

No.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, not that, anything but that, he thought he’d escaped, he thought it was over, why is it still happening, how much longer, he wants to go home, he just wants to go home, he never asked for this, it hurts-_

"Ouma, _stay still-"_

Ouma's panic levels _spike_.

He takes a sharp breath and kicks the human off, backing away until he’s pressed up against the wall behind him.

"Stop…" he begs. "Please, stop, please- I'll tell you anything you want, I can _talk_, please, you don't have to- you don't- please, no more…" he chokes again. "Are you going to kill me too? I'm more valuable to you alive, please, why can't I just _tell_ you everything, don't you have enough-"

He suddenly feels something warm envelop him. _Warm_. Pleasant, soft, not burning. His head clears slightly.

"Momota…" Ouma whispers, looking up at the human hugging him.

"You're safe," he whispers back. "I won't hurt you. But you're bleeding, I need to take a look, okay? I'm only going to help."

"What… are you going to…"

Momota hesitates to answer. "It's… _deep_. I should have a medkit somewhere, I'll try to stitch it back up, I-"

_"Don't,"_ Ouma cuts him off. "Don't, it'll make it worse, it'll never heal, please, anything but that…"

"O- Okay," Momota is taken aback. "What _do_ I do, then?"

Ouma pauses. "...Do you have water?"

"Water?"

He nods. "It needs to be in water… Then I can try to close it…"

Momota is visibly confused. "I only have a few water bottles. I can't, like, _submerge _your wound."

_"Well, you have to,"_ Ouma snaps back. "Isn't your planet supposed to be full of fucking water?!"

Momota cringes slightly. "Okay. I'll… figure something out. Just lie down and don't move too much, okay?" He moves away to look through his bag.

Ouma reluctantly follows the instructions. It's okay. He's in a car. He's not freezing. He's not being strapped to anything. He's not _there_. He's with Momota. Momota is different from other humans, he's not horrible…

He lies back and tries to calm down. How is he supposed to fix this? He's never healed a cut this big, he isn't sure if it's even possible. Especially since he's _this_ limited in how he can change. He can only _slightly_ move the nearest tissue around, or he's risking reopening something else, something much worse… No matter what he does, his fix will be flimsy at best. It'll be a miracle if he manages to take a single step without opening up the wound again.

He feels something wet touch his thigh, and he looks over to see Momota press a folded up cloth (probably a spare shirt) soaked in water to it. "Sorry, it's probably cold," he mutters.

It is.

"Does this… work?" Momota asks hesitantly.

"Yeah…" Ouma nods. "Just… give me a moment…" he closes his eyes and focuses on moving the very edges of his cut closer to each other. He can barely tell if they're moving at all when the water is this cold…

"Hey…" Momota speaks up. "You're… _actually_ an alien?"

Ouma opens one eye to give him a _look_. "I've been telling you this _since we met."_

"I know, but… I dunno, it… didn't feel real, I guess…"

Ouma sighs. "Well, it is."

"What is this supposed to accomplish, right now?"

"I'm trying to make the wound reconnect. Hold up, it's hard enough as it is without you talking."

Momota obediently goes quiet. A few minutes pass by in complete silence.

"...Take a look," Ouma finally says.

Momota pulls away the newly dry shirt and _freezes_. "...What the _fuck_," his eyes widen in amazement as he lightly traces the spot where the wound used to be with his fingers. The only trace of it left is a slight indent in the thigh where the two layers of skin overlapped.

Ouma winces. "Don't touch. It's fragile."

"Ah, sorry," Momota jerks his hand away. _"Dude, this is so cool, what the fuck?!"_

"Yeah, worked better than expected, I guess…" Ouma laughs weakly. "It's barely holding together, though, I can feel it…"

"Still! It's- I- It was... And you just... _What?"_

"That's just what we do," he shrugs. "We can change, at will. Shapeshift, I guess you could call it. What I did is just that, except on a much smaller scale. That's the only thing I _can _do anymore…"

"And the water?"

"Our preferred environment. Some people can change without being in the water, but that's _talented_ people."

Momota pauses as he takes the information in. _"Dude, that's so fucking cool, how the fuck do you exist?"_

“The fuck kind of question is that?”

Momota stutters. "I- I- I dunno, just- _How?!_ You just… healed a fucking bone-deep scar and that's _normal_ for you? You _shapeshift_, what?!" His eyes are sparkling with excitement.

"_What-_deep?"

"Y'know. Bone? That's what we call the thing that the meat sits on?"

Ouma blinks. "Ah, that. Yeah, we don't have those."

_"The fuck?"_

"How would we shapeshift if we had bones, dumbass?"

Momota opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates.

"Yeah. So, that's that," Ouma shrugs.

"Hey, Ouma…"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay? I noticed the scars on your arms before, and there's more on your legs, and… and the one on the other thigh looks fucking horrible, and… _are there more?"_

Ouma reflexively clenches the middle of his shirt. "It's fine," he answers. "I'm out of that place, that's what matters…"

There's a pause, and then Momota nods. "Yeah… So… all of the government stuff is also…"

"I didn't lie to you."

"Huh…"

Ouma throws him a glance. "Are you going to hand me over now that you realize who I am?"

Momota fervently shakes his head. "No, I'm not abandoning you. The end goal's the same, right? To get you somewhere safe, somewhere where you won't have to hide from everyone anymore."

Ouma averts his eyes. "...I want to go _home_, Momota…"

He knows it's a big request. Impossible, even. How is Momota, a human, someone from a completely undeveloped planet, supposed to help? He can't. Ouma has no ship or way to contact anyone, he's _stranded_. There's no way for him to go back, no hope that-

"Okay," Momota nods.

"H-Huh?" Ouma looks to him, eyes wide.

"We'll get you home. If you let me come with you. How's that sound?" Momota grins.

"I…" Ouma can't even find the words to answer. "Do you even realize what you're saying right now?"

"Is there a problem? We'll get you home, that's what you wanted."

"How the fuck are you planning to accomplish that?"

"We'll think of something," Momota smiles brightly. "Nothing is impossible! You traveled all the way here to Earth, there's no reason why you can't go back."

"Yes, because my planet is actually advanced. _Yours_ has fucking _nothing_."

"Hey, don't be rude," Momota reaches out to ruffle Ouma's hair, but catches himself and pulls back before he touches it. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now we just gotta focus on getting as far away from here as we can. Once you're not in active danger we can calm down a little and actually think about it," he says, getting up from the backseat and climbing over to the front. "You just rest there and try not to move too much, I'll take care of everything else."

Ouma rolls his eyes. "Dumbass…" he mutters under his breath.

Momota turns the car back on. The monotonous, already familiar hum of the engine provides some background noise and helps Ouma calm down slightly. Maybe everything _wasn't_ as bad as it seemed. Maybe it was okay to just… not think about the overwhelming hopelessness Ouma had found himself in for a while…

He closes his eyes, curling up into the backseat slightly.

"...Uh." Momota's clearly concerned voice breaks Ouma's flimsy attempt at serenity.

"What?" he asks.

"...The car's stuck."


End file.
